Frozen Strawberries
by jacob
Summary: Frozen strawberries are best served with a few ice crystals still remaining. If thawed completely they will become mushy. Clearly it was Kurosaki's fault, although he wouldn't be surprised if Matsumoto had planned the entire affair. [HitsuIchi SLASH]
1. Freezing the Strawberries

Disclaimer—Things that I do not own include: a plane, your soul and Bleach.

A/N—I needed to get this out of the way so I can go back to working on my Danny Phantom/Sky High fic. But god I am obsessed with Bleach after being introduced to it just a scant three weeks ago. Needless to say, **don't like slash, then leave now. **

Frozen Strawberries

Chapter 1/2

The Kurosaki household was rarely a quiet place. Between the family that lived there and the fact that said family was a hub for bizarre characters both living and dead, chaos ruled supreme in the house. Ichigo dearly loved those times when his house was quiet, and luckily after a long day of fighting hollows and pseudo-arrancar, he and his fellow shinigami were tired enough to not cause a ruckus.

Or so he had thought.

"C'mon, Ichigo, come join us," came a wheedling female voice from the other side of his door. Ichigo glared at the door, trying to communicate his displeasure through the wood. They'd had him trapped in there for a good ten minutes already, and he was getting tired of being locked up.

"Ah, stop trying Matsumoto, if he's too much of a pansy to come take a drink—" Renji started.

"I'm not a pansy, it's illegal you retard," Ichigo bellowed. Renji made an inarticulate sound of rage.

"Isn't it also illegal for a teenager to be risking his life as you do?" Yumichika asked, his voice completely devoid of interest. The pretty man was probably looking at his fingernails, checking for imperfections, or something.

"That's not the same thing at all," Ichigo said. He had crossed his arms defensively across his chest and was glaring at the door, behind which the four older shinigami were standing.

"But, Kurosaki-kun, surely if you're old enough to fight and risk death, you're old enough to drink," Matsumoto said, using the same "reasonable" tone of voice she used on her captain.

"Why should I?"

"Because we're all doing it?" Her voice was hopeful now.

"Shut up Matsumoto. You should join us because we might not get this chance again, Ichigo," Ikkaku said. There was a pause and Ichigo heard a few angry whispers behind the door. On the other hand… Ikkaku was right. There was no telling how the war with Aizen was going to go, and if his encounter with Grimmjaw was any indicator… survival was not a guaranteed thing.

"Ah, so maudlin, not at all beautiful," Yumichika said as Ichigo opened the door. The four shinigami looked at him in surprise, until Ikkaku's face split into a victorious grin.

"Yeah but it worked, didn't it?"

"Okay, so you got me, now what?" Ichigo asked, sullenly.

"Now we go downstairs, I have it all set up," Matsumoto said with a brilliant smile. The buxom shinigami vice-captain practically bounced down the stairs, her enormous breasts barely contained in her tight button up shirt. The three men followed her down the stairs. Ichigo stared at the table when he came into the room. He'd seen sake before, and he'd seen bars and such in movies, but on the table was veritable forest of sake jars and bottles. Standing over it, like the giant headmistress of Alcohol Academy was Matsumoto Rangiku.

"Now that is a spread and a half," Ikkaku said. Ichigo privately wondered if shinigami had anything like a 12-step program in Seireitei.

"Now, since it's your first time drinking, Ichigo-kun, you can choose the first toast." Ichigo blinked as the other shinigami quickly sat around the table and began pouring out sake.

"All right then. Uh, to us, because we kick ass," Ichigo said, raising his small cup and then draining it with the other shinigami. The sake was warm but not hot, it tasted odd to Ichigo, but it felt warm as it went down even if he felt his mouth twist a bit at the alcohol.

"A good toast, I'll have to remember that for Zaraki-taicho," Ikkaku said.

"Oi, Ichigo, careful or you'll drink too much too fast," Renji said, looking at Ichigo with a barely disguised concern. Ichigo gave him an evil eye.

"Bah, I can handle it. You just watch out for yourself." Renji's face grew animated and angry.

"Listen asshole, I'm just trying to watch out for you. You could be more respectful of your superior in drinking."

"Hey, you brought me out here—"

"Renji just keep your mouth shut. Ne, Ichigo-kun, just be careful, first time drinking and all," Matsumoto winked at him. Ichigo couldn't help but grin a bit back, Matsumoto's grin was contagious, and not just because she was incredibly hot and most men wanted to do anything to please her.

"A sick drunk is especially ugly," Yumichika practically yawned.

"Another, then, to new friendships," Matsumoto said.

"I can toast that." The five of them all took a drink.

"How about this, to Zaraki Taicho never catching Ichigo," Ikkaku said, grinning.

"Okay that one I want all of you to drink to," Ichigo commanded and they all burst into laughter.

* * *

Hitsugaya Toshiro sighed as he finished the soul burial. Despite the resident shinigami assigned to Karakura town, there were still plenty of hollows that needed purifying, and plenty of souls that needed saving. It was amazing that all the spiritual energy that flooded the town was truly coming from one young man, even to the point where it awaked the spiritual potential of those around him. It was a curious sort of reaction, one that spread and spread like a virus, although if Toshiro was any expert (which he wasn't really) he'd say that soon the spread would stop. Once Kurosaki learned to reign in his immense reiatsu and his close friends finished developing whatever powers they had, that is. 

With a quick flash jump Toshiro returned to his body and then began to quickly make his way towards his vice-captains spiritual signature. Without surprise he noticed she was at the Kurosaki clinic, almost over-shadowed by Kurosaki's reiatsu. Kurosaki was extremely interesting, as far as Toshiro was concerned. He was loud, undisciplined, a human and frankly more than a little stupid at times. But he had power, so much power that when Toshiro thought of what Kurosaki would eventually be capable of, it made him a little fearful.

Soul society had already had to deal with the ambitions of one overly powerful shinigami, he prayed that Kurosaki would never go down the path Aizen went, because honestly, if he did, Toshiro didn't know if they would ever be able to stop him. Such depressive thinking was unbefitting a captain, especially when it was pure conjecture and Kurosaki was obviously not like Aizen at all. Kurosaki had too much love in his heart to go down that road.

He really was a rather remarkable human, Toshiro thought as he landed on the door step of the house. As he opened the door, he heard voices raised in merriment, the loudest of which was, as usual, his vice captain. However, he didn't expect to see all of the shinigami he'd brought with him to be drinking sake with Kurosaki at the kitchen table.

"What are all of you doing?" The mood abruptly changed, swan diving into silence. Madarame, Ayasegawa and Abarai all cringed and began glancing around furtively.

"Oh, hi, taicho, we were just, ah, that is—" Matsumoto began nervously. Toshiro felt a wave of irritation coming on. It was wartime, they had to be ready to move at a moment's notice to combat Aizen, drinking was a clearly stupid decision to make.

"We're drinking, Toshiro, what's it look like?" Kurosaki said brazenly. Toshiro now felt a vein begin to pulse in his head in time with the wave of irritation.

"That's Hitsugaya-taicho to you," he snapped.

"Psh, whatever. Anyways, you should join us." Toshiro stared at Kurosaki, along with the other shinigami. Matsumoto silently was smirking; she'd just known that if anyone could get her captain to loosen up, it would be Ichigo.

"I don't think so, someone has to be ready and able in case something happens," Toshiro said, his voice as cold as his sword.

"Oh yeah, I guess it's not good to give alcohol to little kids." Silence. Dead silence, or rather, the kind of silence that promised someone would soon be dead. Kurosaki closed his eyes and took a calm drink from his cup. Matsumoto was nervously glancing between her captain and Kurosaki (things were not going how she'd thought, it looked like her captain was going to use his bankai rather than join them for a drink), while the other shinigami were trying to back up without appearing obvious.

"What did you just say?" Toshiro's voice was low, and dangerous.

"I think you heard me, Shiro-chan. I dare you to take a drink with us," Kurosaki stared straight into Toshiro's eyes. "Unless, of course, you don't think you can handle it." Rage ripped through Toshiro, but the pure unconcerned look on the human boy's face triggered something else in him. With a facial expression that resembled a snarl more than anything else, Toshiro grabbed a chair and sat at the table.

"Fine." More silence, but rather than the kind of silence involving bloody murder, this was a stunned silence. He noticed Matsumoto pinching herself and scowled at her. Abarai was scowling at Kurosaki while Madarame shrugged and took another drink. Ayasegawa, assured that nothing violent would threaten his hair and face, smiled and crossed his legs.

"Now what?" Toshiro said unwillingly. He honestly had no idea what the hell he was doing, but goddamn it something about Kurosaki… compelled him. At least he needn't feel too embarrassed about that; he wasn't the only one who was affected by Kurosaki's peculiar form of magic. He stared at the other shinigami, meeting his eyes with a look that he knew could cow anyone who wasn't another captain. Of course, it had no effect on Kurosaki.

"Now, we drink. Like, let's drink to first times," Ichigo said. Madarame snickered and Abarai smiled nastily at Kurosaki, but they all took a drink. Toshiro almost gagged but he choked it down without any outward sign of difficulty. He'd never had anything like sake before; it was somewhat uncomfortable and didn't taste particularly appetizing. He'd never had alcohol before, but the taste of it was somehow recognizable and almost felt as if he'd had it before. Kurosaki finally noticed the looks he was getting from the other male shinigami.

"What?" The look on Kurosaki's face was best described as mutinous; it would have possibly been more intimidating if he'd been wearing his sword. As it was, he just looked vaguely constipated to Toshiro's critical eye. The captain took another sip of the sake, he'd be damned if he acted like it affected him. Matsumoto was watching him, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

His vice-captain flushed a slightly and then smiled at him. Although she had a fair number of, to be honest, deplorable habits, Toshiro knew that she was loyal beyond reproach and reliable when the chips were down. And it wasn't her fault she had a huge rack.

"First times… sounds like you need to take more than your first drink before this war starts too," Renji leered. Kurosaki turned a brilliant beet red and Toshiro almost choked on his sake.

"That's not funny," Kurosaki growled.

"Oh I think it is," Abarai responded, clearly pleased to have found a weak point for Kurosaki that he could needle.

"Oh shut it you two," Matsumoto said wearily. Toshiro privately agreed that mocking Kurosaki for something like not having sex was completely inappropriate and unfair. Sex was not something that should be demeaned in such a manner, at least in Toshiro's opinion. Of course he hadn't exactly any experience in that arena either, he didn't have time for a distraction on that magnitude, nor did he allow himself to succumb to any sort of urges that could be detrimental to his status as a captain.

Shinigami took a very long time to age; the soul was not subject to the same rules as flesh, clearly. Toshiro was older than most humans, and yet his body was still that of a child barely fourteen, and small for that age as well. It was difficult enough to get the respect that he deserved from the people around him, but if he were to ever display sexual interest he felt as though he would undermine all the hard work he'd gone through to gain his image. As pathetic as that was, Toshiro really did care if people viewed him as childish.

Yet here were Abarai and Kurosaki, arguing over something wholly inappropriate and without a single care now for whomever could be watching. Somehow that made Toshiro angry, that they could be arguing about this, that Kurosaki had somehow gotten him to drink, that Kurosaki had this sort of power over him and so many others and yet was just so… childish. It was infuriating.

"I have a toast," the small captain said suddenly, the words spilling out of his mouth like a cool stream dousing the hot fire of conflict that was fast escalating.

"Oh you do? Let's hear it then, taicho," Matsumoto said eagerly.

"To idiocy and stupid decisions," Toshiro said, looking pointedly at Kurosaki and Abarai. The vice-captain flushed slightly and raised his cup along with everyone else. Matsumoto grinned at the two.

"Hear, hear, those are my favorite kind of decisions," Madarame said before slamming the sake into his mouth. The rest of them took decidedly less violent drinks, although Matsumoto cleared her cup out and had to refill it.

"And then, here's another one: to idiots and their stupid decisions," this time he looked directly and only at Kurosaki who glared at him, and opened his mouth to say something before shutting it suddenly. Toshiro didn't smile, but he couldn't help the rush of amusement he felt from knowing Abarai had just trod heavily on Kurosaki's foot. The bastard would regret getting Toshiro to do this.

"Ah, careful Taicho, you don't wanna drink so much so quickly," Matsumoto warned him. After all those years of trying to get him to drink with her and now she was warning him to be careful? It didn't make much sense to Toshiro, who calmly took another sip while looking at Matsumoto. Abarai gave a short yelp as Kurosaki elbowed him in the gut.

"Well then, how about a toast to puberty, the most painful part of your life," Kurosaki said, smirking at Toshiro. The temperature in the kitchen plummeted and Toshiro could swear his vision was beginning to tinge red. Who the fuck did Kurosaki think he was? That bastard was asking for it.

"Hey, now, we're all friends here. This is supposed to be fun guys!" Matsumoto said, her eyes darting back and forth anxiously.

"Oh, I'm having fun, all right," Kurosaki's voice was starting to slur but his gaze was steady as he stared at Toshiro.

"Okay, no more for you," Matsumoto said and reached for the jug by Kurosaki.

"But I don't even feel drunk," Kurosaki said plaintively.

"Yes you do, or rather you will."

"Nice job, Kurosaki," Toshiro said, knowing he looked smug and not caring. He was starting to understand why Abarai fought with Kurosaki the way he did, it was somehow liberating. Or maybe it was the fact that his blood seemed awfully warm and his extremities were beginning to tingle a bit from the alcohol.

"Oh screw you, Toshiro."

"Na na, Kurosaki-kun, you cannot woo someone as beautiful as Hitsugaya-taicho with cold ugly words. You need to use beautiful words, perhaps with flowers, and you simply must make yourself more beautiful. I can help, if you wish," Ayasegawa said. Rumors abounded about the pretty man in the Court of Pure Souls, and it was well known that he acted overly effeminate. On the other hand he was a member of the 11th division, a seated officer under the most brutal captain in the history of the Gotei 13. Toshiro didn't even know how to begin to react to what the man had said, and from the dazed expression on Kurosaki's face neither did he.

"You're a weird one, Yumichika," Madarame muttered.

"I can't be weird, Ikkaku, I'm far to pretty. Rather I'm eccentric." Toshiro decided to tune out the bizarre shinigami, even if Matsumoto was giving the pretty man a rather speculative look that he did not approve of.

"So, Ichigo, you're truly a virgin?" Abarai apparently didn't know how to let the subject drop.

"Go to hell Renji," Kurosaki said, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Toshiro found himself glaring at Abarai as he took another drink. The vice-captain caught his eye and then quickly lost the teasing grin on his face.

"No shame, no shame, it's just something you should take care of, ya know. Could die tomorrow, could die the day after that. You gotta take life where you can get it." Kurosaki stopped looking murderous and shrugged.

"I'm not that kind of guy."

"Psh, Kurosaki, all guys are 'that kind of guy,' you don't have to be a pervert to enjoy sex. That's the whole fucking point of it, after all."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I just haven't, you know, met anyone who's right for me."

"Oh, well what's right for you?" Kurosaki paused and looked to be deep in thought. The entire table was quiet as he contemplated his answer.

"To be right for me, you have to be strong, not just mentally either. You need to be a good person, have a sense of humor and not be pretentious. You need to challenge me and, uh," Kurosaki paused in thought, and for some reason Toshiro compared himself to Kurosaki's criteria. He stacked up pretty favorably, except for the fact that Kurosaki most likely was attracted to women. One of the things that Toshiro kept rather quiet about was that he was, if he was honest with himself, mostly attracted to men. It was perhaps the only reason he could deal with a vice-captain as well endowed and as shameless as Matsumoto Rangiku. If someone like Kyouraku-taicho had her as his vice-captain, well, the man would probably have died from blood loss due to nose bleeds long before now.

Another sip of sake, by now the taste had grown on him, and Toshiro realized that he was probably a little drunk. Interesting. He'd been so vehement about never indulging in this manner, and yet now it seemed so very harmless. Even his earlier anger at Kurosaki seemed to have vanished. He stifled a small hiccough and chuckle before tuning back into the conversation.

"Well I want to go hit the town for a bit, see what the late night life is like," his vice captain was saying. Kurosaki and Abarai were still arguing, only they were doing it in relatively hushed tones to keep Toshiro from yelling at them.

"I'll accompany you, Rangiku-san. I'm sure there are a lot of beautiful ladies out tonight, perhaps some even beautiful enough for me," Yumichika practically purred. Matsumoto gave him a small smile that typically made men fall straight to their knees and beg for her name. She stood up and linked arms with the other shinigami and they began to walk towards the door, without weaving in the slightest. Toshiro didn't quite trust himself to stand at this point, and he pushed the cup away.

"You two have fun," Ikakku mumbled and waved at the two.

"Of course, and take care of taicho for me," Matsumoto said. Toshiro stuck his tongue out at her, which made her laugh. Her voice was like chimes in the wind, musical and free. Toshiro really did love her dearly, not that he would ever say such a thing, it wasn't in his personality to make declarations of affection. Actions should speak louder than words, because anyone can mouth the words "I love you," but a friend or lover that proves the phrase is infinitely more true.

_Man, so this is what it's like to be drunk._ Everything just felt—felt like more. His emotions were sweeping through his mind with all the fickleness of a spoiled child in a toy store. What's more they seemed to do so at random, and they all seemed to be very positive, he felt happy and warm, and he just knew he was wearing a slightly dopey smile on his face that was completely out of character. And he didn't care. It was bizarre to know those things and yet still feel completely fine.

"Better watch out, Matsumoto is going to steal your boyfriend," Renji said as soon as the other two had left. Ikkaku snorted derisively.

"My boyfriend? Hardly, Abarai-kun. Stop confusing your crush on your Taicho with me." Toshiro put his hand over his mouth to suppress a giggle. Renji and Kuchiki Byakuya? The image of the incredibly reserved and uptight Kuchiki man and the loud and low-class vice-captain was just funny to him. Not that Byakuya wasn't extremely attractive; he had perfect decorum and was the very definition of a proper shinigami. But even Toshiro could see that he was too stiff, and that he only acted the way he did because of a great pain in his soul.

He was still incredibly beautiful. One of Toshiro's small pleasures was being able to admire him during captain meetings, although never for more than a few seconds, lest he be noticed.

"You have a crush on Byakuya?" Kurosaki said loudly and Toshiro jumped guiltily. But the orange-haired boy was talking to Renji, not him.

"Are you retarded? Of course not," Renji spluttered. "That's fucking ridiculous."

"It's common knowledge that Renji can't decided which Kuchiki he wants to fuck," Ikkaku said. Both Renji and Kurosaki reacted badly to that.

"Oi shut up you bald bastard."

"Don't you fucking talk about Rukia like that."

"Oh, why, do you have a thing for her?" Ikkaku said leeringly at Kurosaki. Toshiro kept watching to see if things would become more amusing. Without thinking he took another sip of sake from the cup he had pushed away earlier.

"No, I do not," Kurosaki responded indignantly.

"You better not," Renji muttered darkly.

"What the hell does that mean?" Kurosaki turned to look at Renji.

"Ah, ah, he has decided! Congratulations on making up your mind, Renji, although I'm sure poor Kuchiki-taicho will be devastated." Ikkaku's mannerisms were almost as flamboyant as Yumichika for a moment, and Renji's face turned so red it was almost purple.

"Shut the fuck up before I shut you up, bastard. Don't you have hard-on for your captain too, freak?" Suddenly Toshiro wasn't as happy anymore.

"No, I'm not a fruit like you, Renji," Madarame was still talking easily, but there was an edge to his voice now.

"Your boyfriend is," Abarai responded nastily. Toshiro felt cold now, cold as the ice that sometimes ran through his veins. How dare those two talk about him like that. Or people like him. Or whatever. And Kurosaki—Kurosaki was oddly downcast. Something in Toshiro jumped.

_Is he—does he?_

"Both of you should be quiet now, if you don't want to get hurt." There was an awkward silence. Madarame and Abarai might still be drunk, but they were trained to obey a captain of the Gotei 13 no matter what. Ichigo, who had been staring at his cup somewhat glumly, was now looking at Toshiro with a look that the smaller shinigami couldn't quite interpret.

Silence once again stretched out over the group, like an invisible towel that absorbed any and all noise. The power of speech is fantastic, and at times magical in it scope and ability. The absence of speech was something that was far more nebulous, more difficult to determine and analyze. In this case, the absence came from the fact that no one quite knew what to say now. Toshiro's displeasure had effectively censured the two drunken shinigami and Ichigo was clearly uncomfortable.

"I'm going back to Urahara's," Abarai mumbled.

"You're too drunk to go by yourself," Madarame said.

"Ah screw you, Ikkaku."

"C'mon, Abarai-kun, I'll walk with you."

"Che, whatever makes you happy." The two men stood up and with a nod to Ichigo and Toshiro, departed. They were weaving as they exited the house, dipping close to each other as if they might need to lean on one another but without actually having to, yet.

"You happy now, Toshiro? You chased them off," Ichigo said, his eyes narrowed. Toshiro scowled at him. He'd done that as a favor to himself and Ichigo (he hoped it was a favor towards Ichigo).

"Shut up, Kurosaki. And it's Hitsugaya-taicho to you." Ichigo's mouth worked until finally he settled on something to say.

"What is your problem?" Toshiro cocked his head to the side.

"What is my problem? What is your problem, more like it."

"You're so fucking uptight, like you've got a stick shoved up your ass." Toshiro felt his cheeks grow hot with anger.

"Kurosaki…" Ichigo grinned, and Toshiro realized that the other boy was trying to get a rise out of him. But for what purpose?

"You need to, lighten up and smell the roses, or whatever." He almost burst into laughter at that ridiculous statement, but he was curious to see what Ichigo was trying to do.

"How does being obnoxious and stupid add up to 'smelling the roses?'"

"Now you're just being mean, but I'll tell you. It's—it's about letting people get, you know, close to you." Toshiro felt that Ichigo was putting a bit of odd emphasis on the word "close." His hopes were rising, but he forced himself to calm down. Shouldn't alcohol, as a depressant, make his heart less prone to beating so fast?

"I have people that are close to me, and I don't exactly stop others from trying to, get close to me, that is," Toshiro said. Why was he offering an explanation? Because that was what was truly dangerous about Kurosaki Ichigo, he had the ability to change people. Literally and figuratively, Ichigo could make a person different from how they were before he came into their life. His ability to inspire change in the world around him, simply by being true to himself, by living through his convictions, was what was truly fascinating about him.

How could someone not be intrigued by a person who could soften Kuchiki Byakuya, teach Zaraki Kenpachi kindness, bless humans with rare and powerful gifts and single-handedly save Soul Society? So why did Toshiro still feel almost guilty?

"Yeah, I suppose you do." Ichigo's face was not sad now, but it was quiet and contemplative, not a look he wore frequently, and all the more potent for its rarity. The two sat there for a while in a silence that was finally companionable and comfortable. Toshiro hadn't imagined that he could spend time with Ichigo in such a manner, hell, he hadn't known that he could spend time with Ichigo and just be at peace. The boy's presence made him feel oddly comfortable.

"Want some more?" Ichigo offered him a bit of the sake, which was quite cold now. It didn't taste as good, but Toshiro suddenly wanted very much to touch, to—_slow down, calm. Wait for the moment._ If anything would happen (why did he want something to happen?) it would happen at a pivotal moment.

"Sure." Ichigo poured, and Toshiro watched his wrists and hands. Those were strong hands, hands that had obviously seen a great deal of fighting, covered in calluses and the signs of a couple broken knuckles. For all that they were obviously the hands of a fighter, they moved with a gentleness that belied everything he knew about Ichigo.

"You know, I really am not in love with Rukia." Toshiro could have sworn that his heart skipped an entire beat there.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean, I love her, but… no. Definitely not."

Toshiro was silent as he sipped the now cold sake. It didn't really matter though, he was buzzed enough he didn't care.

"Do you, do you think Renji really has a crush on Byakua?" Ichigo asked, and the question was off track enough that Toshiro gave him an honest reply.

"I don't speculate on the romantical attachments others might have, it does no good to gossip." Toshiro frowned, "romantical" was definitely not a word. Luckily, Ichigo didn't notice.

"See that's your problem, Toshiro, you don't make room for the shit that makes people human. You do need to loosen up." _Loosen up, what the hell does he even mean by that?_

"How would you suggest I do that, then?" He needed to keep Ichigo talking if he was going to find out what exactly the other boy wanted.

"I dunno, get laid, or something. Wish I could get laid." Toshiro eyed Ichigo, and he didn't know if it was the alcohol (yes, he did know, it definitely was the alcohol) but he was feeling… restless. Ichigo stared off at the wall, and Toshiro, who was having more than a little trouble focusing his vision, admired the other boy's strong profile. He could feel the reiatsu that always was spilling off of Ichigo, like being inundated with his presence. His own control was beginning to slip a bit, and the air was starting to be charged with his reiatsu as well.

Ichigo was attractive, and possibly interested, a combination that made something in the pit of Toshiro's stomach stir. No, it was lower. There was a tension across his groin, one that wasn't in his skin but rather existed around his body, a sort of yearning and awareness that emanated from between his thighs. Ichigo had stopped staring into space, and was now looking directly at Toshiro. The orange-haired boy looked into Toshiro's eyes, and whatever he saw there made him blush slightly.

"Kurosaki…" Toshiro said, his voice low and throaty. Ichigo shivered and grinned like a maniac.

"Yes, Shiro-chan?" Toshiro didn't even feel himself moving. He was just suddenly on Ichigo's lap, his knees touching the outside of Ichigo's thighs and his hand placed gently on Ichigo's heart.

"Call me that again, and I'll make you regret it."

"I'm kinda counting on that." Here it was, the moment. Toshiro, who was always aware and in control of his body, once again found himself moving without thinking, his lips laid against Ichigo's before he could even consider the ramifications of the action. The first kiss was a test drive. Toshiro hadn't exactly a great deal of experience in this arena, but he wasn't a genius for nothing. At first he just left his mouth inviting, moving his tongue only a little, letting Ichigo set the pace of the kiss. Ichigo's mouth tasted of sake and his reiatsu, strong and warm.

Once Toshiro felt he had the basics, and kissing did seem to have a few easily mastered basics to his mind, he began to put a bit of his own energy into the kissing. Breaking off for a quick breath and then gently laying his mouth back on Ichigo's, this time he was in charge. He moved his hands to cup Ichigo's face, savoring the soft feel of his cheeks and the strong jaw that was currently locked in almost combat with his own. Ichigo's hands were on his sides and then slid down to his hips. Suddenly Ichigo's hands were moving even lower, cupping his backside.

"Kurosaki!" Toshiro practically yelped, breaking off the kiss and sitting back slightly. Ichigo looked at him quizzically.

"What?"

"I—well, that was unexpected, was all," Toshiro said, his face pink, his words still slurred. The feeling of having his ass grabbed like that, clutched by strong hands had been… powerful. Ichigo's taunting grin proved too much so Toshiro went in for another kiss, and this time lowered his right hand to cup something he guaranteed would get a reaction out of the other boy.

Ichigo groaned into the kiss and Toshiro almost melted. The orange-haired boy was practically writhing under him now, grinding upwards gently against the strong slim hand pressing down onto him. Toshiro was smirking in his mind as he trailed the kiss off of Ichigo's lips and onto his neck. Letting his left hand fall to aid the right hand in its work, he set his teeth gently into Ichigo's skin, feeling the pulse beneath them fluttering like a trapped bird's wing. So he bit down, just as his hands finally touched Ichigo's skin.

A noise came out of Ichigo that was nothing at all like language, it was a raw vocalization of lust and pleasure. Ichigo gripped Toshiro's waist and pressed with his thumbs, massaging the other boy's pelvis.

"Shall we," Ichigo gasped, "go upstairs? To my," another gasp, "room that is?"

"Yeah," Toshiro said, lifting his head up. The two boys unfolded themselves from each other. Ichigo's pants were open and his arousal was clearly visible, but he just smirked and turned to walk away and up the stairs. Toshiro followed along behind him, adjusting his shirt as he walked.

Ichigo opened the door to his room and waltzed in, stripping as soon as he was past the doorway. By the time Toshiro reached the doorway, Ichigo was on the bed, stretched out and completely nude with a huge leering smirk on his face. Toshiro carefully looked the naked boy in front of him up, and down.

"Like what you see?"

"It's tolerable."

"Tolerable? That's bullshit, I'll show you tolerable," Ichigo stood up and approached Toshiro. Without giving the Taicho a second to complain, Ichigo grabbed him and threw him onto the bed, and then threw himself on top of the other boy. Toshiro made a protest that died off as Ichigo began nuzzling his face into the lower part of Toshiro's stomach, caressing the skin under his shirt.

"You just going to tease me, Kurosaki, or do something down there?"

"What, like this?"

A normal man would have said "OHGODYES," but Hitsugaya Toshiro had a constitution far beyond that of a normal man. He simply hissed through gritted teeth and swallowed the exclamation almost as fully as Ichigo was swallowing him.

And then they were kissing again and their bodies were moving against each other and—

"What the hell are you doing?" Toshiro asked. Ichigo stopped moving his hand around a spot that Toshiro was decidedly not expecting it to be in.

"Uh, well, I was just… you know… investigating?"

"What the fuck does sticking your finger almost in my ass investigate?" The question was out before he could stop it, even if he knew the answer.

"Well, Toshiro, that's kinda where, you know, I'm going to put this," Ichigo pointed at himself emphatically, and luckily for his sake without patronizing Toshiro, who was feeling a bit embarrassed at appearing so virginal.

"Says who?"

"Well, uh, you know, me…" Ichigo trailed off weakly in the face of Toshiro's drunkenly raised eyebrow. "I guess I hadn't thought of that, I mean that way, you know—I mean, you can do me, too, if you want, that is." Despite being the most rambling drunken sentence Toshiro had heard that night, he got the point. Any romance which might have been present was gone, and replaced with two, effectively, drunk teenage boys trying to figure out how they were both going to benefit fully from what they were about to do.

"Do you just, go for it?" Toshiro winced at his word choice. Normally he was far more articulate than this but it was awfully hard to concentrate when he was naked, on top of another boy who was naked, and when the room would spin a bit if he moved too quickly.

"No, I know that you have to, you know, warm things up." That made sense, only…

"Well, what about cleaning?" Ichigo's face screwed up in thought.

"Yeah. I dunno. I guess we could take a shower?"

"I was somewhat looking forward to having a bed in the experience," Toshiro said, he wasn't exactly enamored of getting up right now, his head was feeling a bit dizzy and altogether too heavy, and didn't hot water just make you feel drunker, or did it make you sober up?

"Oh we'll only be in there for a bit," Ichigo said as he sat up.

"I mean, I don't think I'm going to make it through the shower without, you know," Toshiro said and winced. God he sounded stupid but the words just were having trouble moving from his brain to his mouth.

"What, Toshiro, you think we're only going to go once? I think we can do the shower," Ichigo was pulling him up and into his arms, "and then my bed, and then maybe my bed again only another position, and then," Ichigo kept talking, running a practical monologue of sexual fantasy as the two stumbled to the bathroom, clinging to each other and periodically stopping to make out heavily against the wall.

"Are you ready, Toshiro?" Ichigo asked as the water heated up.

"Get in the shower Kurosaki," Toshiro commanded him quietly, and the look Ichigo shot him made him almost go weak at the knees.

"God, you're hot." Toshiro smirked and stepped into the water with Ichigo.

* * *

Hitsugaya Toshiro was not used to being so warm, especially when he woke up. Of course he also wasn't used to smooth hot skin touching him all over, or the sticky feeling that seemed to cover his whole body. And the smell… 

Oh god his head hurt. With a stifled groan the small shinigami maneuvered out from under his larger companion. Grabbing a shirt of Kurosaki's at random (long enough to cover him and make him decent) he walked out into the hallway, searching for the bathroom.

A quick shower made him feel a great deal better, even if he was still stiff. His mind was deliberately avoiding analyzing his behavior from the previous night. He could have his breakdown after he'd cleaned up and regained his composure.

After he'd cleaned himself and gotten his clothes back on, he began to feel a measure of his composure returning. The immense reiatsu upstairs, laced with satisfaction, felt like a weight on his mind, as it began to move. Had he and Kurosaki really done what he remembered them doing?

Toshiro's stomach drew him to the kitchen, where he began to forage, looking for something to eat. He stopped looking very hard when it became obvious that Kurosaki was going to come downstairs. A few seconds later the shinigami representative came practically strutting through the kitchen doorway. He was shirtless and wearing a pear of sweat pants the hung low enough to reveal quite a bit of the little treasure trail leading from his navel down to… Toshiro didn't flush, but it was obvious that Kurosaki was not wearing underwear, and that he was slightly aroused.

"Good morning, Toshiro," he said.

"Good morning, Kurosaki."

"You're not going to make me call you Taicho anymore?"

"I don't remember you ever actually calling me by my title, Kurosaki."

"Hmm," Ichigo murmured as he bent over to kiss the back of Toshiro's neck. "You smell clean…"

"Keep your paws and your intentions to yourself, Kurosaki."

"I… see," Kurosaki said slowly, and oddly subdued. Toshiro grit his teeth, he hadn't meant it like that.

"Oh don't be stupid." Kurosaki relaxed a bit at that, but now the boy was starting to look annoyed.

"How is wanting to be affectionate stupid?"

"Listen, I'm very hungry Kurosaki and I don't know how you aren't writhing in agony but my head is killing me, I need some food and someone to cast a healing spell on me," Toshiro snapped a little harsher than he meant to. Instead of angering Kurosaki, though, it seemed to mollify him.

"Hung-over, eh? Let's see what we have here," Kurosaki said and began to unwrap things and put stuff into devices that—Toshiro was going to stop pretending he knew what the human boy was doing.

"Here you go," suddenly there was a plate with two… circular pale yellow things, with a grid on them and covered in some sort of thick liquid, along with two small pills and a glass of milk.

"What is this?"

"Waffles and some maple syrup. My dad's been addicted to them ever since I can remember. Thought you might like them. The pills are painkillers." Toshiro took a bite of the foodstuff, and then proceeded to demolish his plate.

"That was very good, Kurosaki."

"Was it? I kinda want a taste now," Kurosaki said, with a glint in his eye. Toshiro glanced at the empty plate and at the orange-haired boy.

"Excuse me, Kurosaki?"

"I said, I want a taste," the boy repeated, and then kissed the smaller but older boy. Ichigo invaded Toshiro's mouth with his tongue and an overpowering wave of sheer sexual spirit force. Ichigo was a lot better at kissing when he was sober, Toshiro decided in a slight haze. The kiss ended slowly, with Ichigo reluctantly parting their lips (such sweet sorrow).

"Yeah, that was pretty good," Ichigo said, his voice low and husky. "Tea's steeping, I'm going to shower." Good, that meant Toshiro could begin to deal with what he'd done last night. As Ichigo walked out of the kitchen Toshiro watched the play of his skin moving over the muscles in his back. Kurosaki had the elegant posture of a true warrior, and the scratch marks that Toshiro had raked into the other boy's back last night. And he probably should have said something about the enormous love-bite that he'd left on Kurosaki's throat.

Love bite on Kurosaki's throat. Key words: love, bite, and Kurosaki. He, Hitsugaya Toshiro, the prodigy, the boy genius who exceeded all expectations, the captain who had most quickly gained the ability to use bankai for his zanpokuto, a zanpokuto that was the greatest and most legendary ice based soul slayer in Soul Society, had slept with Kurosaki Ichigo, representative shinigami, general trouble maker and rule-breaker, someone with the potential to become one of the most powerful captain class shinigami, and more, if he mastered his hollow powers. They had gotten drunk, and decided somehow that losing their virginity was very important before potentially dieing. Never mind that before last night Toshiro had: never even given much thought to sex, beyond contemplative contempt and occasionally admiring someone's physique, or ever been attracted so viscerally to someone, as he had last night. Of course, he'd never drunk alcohol before last night either.

He had completely lost control. A captain was supposed to be a shinigami beyond reproach, and even if his colleagues at times were less than exemplary, he strove to be a paradigm that others could, and should, aspire to. Decision making like last night was in direct conflict with how he chose to live his life.

Toshiro closed his eyes again the pain in his head, both physical and mental. Clearly this was all Kurosaki's fault and at this point Toshiro didn't know whether to hate him for it or kiss him and drag him back into bed. But he needed to figure it out, and soon.

* * *

End Chapter 1 

PS: I wasn't quite satisfied with the final product of this chapter, seeing as how it went largely unedited (you write something in a day and a half that'll happen) so there are some minor cosmetic changes that are happening.


	2. After Effects

Disclaimer—Bleach is not my property, and as such this is not for profit or anything other than the enjoyment of a few fans.

A/N—Part 2 of 2. This was a fun little fic, and I have to admit that although I love all Bleach characters, I'm going to push HitsuIchi only until the fandom picks up.

After Effects

"Good mooooooooooooorning," a strong female voice sang out. Toshiro looked up blearily at the door as his vice-captain practically danced into the house. Behind her stood Ayasegawa, who looked as immaculate and girlish as ever, Kuchiki Rukia and Orihime Inoue.

"Oh, Hitsugaya-taicho, you look awful," his buxom vice-captain said, her voice laced with concern. If just about anyone else talked to him in such a manner they would find themselves on the receiving end of a stare that was known to make strong men lose control of their bowels. With Matsumoto, whom he knew was immune to his glare anyway, it was okay.

"Yes, Matsumoto, I actually have a semblance of empathy for you now."

"My poor little taicho, what have you done to yourself?" Of course there were limits.

"Matsumoto…" Toshiro trailed off dangerously. Orihime moved forward and looked at him with her large soulful eyes. It wasn't hard to see what was special about the girl, despite lacking any sort of true combat potential, kind ness and love radiated from her the way raw power did from Kurosaki.

"Is Kurosaki-kun still asleep?"

"No, he's upstairs, showering," Toshiro said.

"Where are Renji and Madarame-san, Hitsugaya-taicho?" Kuchiki asked.

"They went back to Urahara's last night."

"Well that's good, because we're supposed to head back there now. Yoruichi-san and Soifon-taicho are coming to give us the latest information from Soul Society. Someone should really go tell Kurosaki-kun, too," Matsumoto said.

"I'll do it," Toshiro said. Matsumoto's eyes narrowed, and she watched her captain climb the stairs with a speculative glint in her eyes. She was distracted in short order as Yumichika had found some sort of sweet that he was gushing over and she knew that if she didn't snag some now he'd hog it all.

Toshiro didn't notice, as he was thinking (and without pain, thank god for those pills Kurosaki had given him) quite deeply about Kurosaki, and the—the thing that had happened. He knocked on the bathroom door and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

"I'm showering, go use another bathroom," came the muffled reply.

"It's me, Kurosaki," Toshiro replied.

"Oh, come in them." Toshiro raised an eyebrow at the locked door and then glared at it, hard. The door unlocked and the captain smiled. He pushed his way inside and closed the door as the steam washed over him. Water was always welcome on his skin; he could feel Hiyorinmaru stirring as his body eagerly drank in the moisture.

The shower had a flowery curtain on it, which Kurosaki was now peering around the edge of. Toshiro didn't flush as he looked at the other boy, but he did flush at the memories of being in this shower last night. He remembered clawing at the wall there, Ichigo grabbing the curtain and almost falling on him, the spot where Ichigo had pinned him so Toshiro could watch what the other boy did in the mirror, or the counter where Ichigo had been on his back with Toshiro licking—with the practice of long hours spent controlling himself, Toshiro smoothed his thoughts out once more.

"Nah, what is it Toshiro, came back for more?" Smirking like nothing was wrong and how could he just ask that? Toshiro's irritation rose. But he could control it, especially as what he was about to say would determine where things would go from here. He took a deep breath, wondering why this felt so difficult to him.

"No" he said sharply, "and about that Kurosaki. Last night," here it went, "was very, very nice. But it won't happen again because of some whim. I'm not going to share my body at the cost of my heart." There, that was well said. Kurosaki had to understand it. That had been difficult, but Toshiro had succeeded.

Kurosaki looked at him with a carefully blank face.

"So, what are you saying?" Toshiro wanted to punch Kurosaki in the face, hard. The orange-haired shinigami was now standing in full view, and Toshiro saw that if anything the love bite on Kurosaki's neck had gotten a little bigger. He desperately tried to keep his eyes off of Kurosaki's manhood, even as he felt his palms begin to grow warm and a tingling that crept over his whole body.

"I'm saying, moron, that if you want it to happen again, it better mean a little something more than last night. Now finish washing yourself and then come join us. And cover up your neck while you're at it," Toshiro snapped at him. He ignored the vaguely hurt expression on Kurosaki's face as he walked out of the bathroom.

* * *

_That little prick_ Ichigo thought to himself, and then smirked as he remembered how that phrase was not exactly appropriate to describe Toshiro. All the same, the captain had no fucking business speaking to him like that. And what was that crap about his heart? 

"Che," Ichigo spat, he didn't know why Toshiro had to be so unbelievably aggravating. Saying last night hadn't meant anything, it had god damn meant something to Ichigo. It had meant a fucking ton. Ichigo didn't just give his heart away to people, but what he'd given Toshiro last night was certainly enough to indicate the level of respect he felt for the captain.

It wasn't like he had just fucked Toshiro and then left him. Hell, he'd let Toshiro fuck him, and they'd fucking cuddled (albeit drunkenly, and really, it wasn't cuddling, more falling asleep entangled in each other's arms) and shit. Ichigo refrained from punching the wall by the barest of margins, but he could feel the anger settling in his muscles, knotting with tension. His shoulders in particular felt an almost literal weight on them.

Tying the towel roughly about his waist Ichigo stalked into his room. He threw some clothes on, all the while growling to himself about stupid little shinigami bastards who thought they were the shit. He looked at himself in the mirror and frowned. Toshiro had to have a mouth like a fucking lion (or dragon) because the mark on his neck was huge.

It occurred to Ichigo, that he could just let the mark stay there, in plain sight. He grinned, that would teach the uppity little captain. He'd strut around with the mark in plain view and just not say a word to anyone about it.

_"I'm saying, moron, that if you want it to happen again, it better mean a little something more than last night."_ Did that mean it hadn't meant anything to Toshiro? No, otherwise he wouldn't have gotten upset. But what did he want, declarations of love and shit?

The realization was not comfortable. Ichigo cursed, he'd really enjoyed the previous night with the other boy, it had been hot, and pleasurable, but ultimately it had been comfortable. He'd felt both good physically and mentally at peace, even if only for a scant few hours. But he couldn't—he wasn't ready to just jump into some sort of—whatever it was Toshiro wanted. Love in his life didn't end well. He'd loved his mother, and she'd been hurt because of him. He'd loved Rukia and she'd been taken from him for helping him, and sentenced to death. His love had endangered all his friends and loved ones at one point or another. His very presence was dangerously attractive to the forces of evil, however trite that sounded.

It was the reason he gained power, to defend his loved ones, but the reason they needed defending was because he was dangerous to be around. To be loved by Kurosaki Ichigo was to be put in the line of fire.

_That's bullshit logic though, Toshiro is a captain who has mastered his bankai completely and has immense spiritual power. Out of almost anyone he should be perfectly safe to be with because he can keep himself safe._ And what was all this talk about love? Maybe Toshiro was right, and last night had been nothing, had meant nothing more than release, a chance to grab pleasure before it was potentially gone forever. No, no, that was wrong. It hadn't been love, not soul shattering affection, but it had been something. It had not been empty, it had meant something. Damned if Ichigo knew what that was, though.

The orange-haired boy who was fast becoming a man sat on the edge of his bed, towel still wrapped around his waist. Love was scary, and hard. There was no defense against the wounds love could create, he knew that intimately. He didn't—he couldn't handle more of that pain in his life. His burdens were already stretching out and smothering him (protect the family, protect the friends, save the city, save the soul society, save the world) and he just could not deal with more pain.

And fucking Toshiro thought it was nothing. Nothing. _See, it's already starting to hurt._

Ichigo laughed a little, and it shocked him how pained and self-pitying he sounded to his own ears. Time to reign it in, he didn't need to broadcast to everyone what he was thinking, he'd already done that enough. After he was dressed he stared at his neck. The love-bite. It was a physical manifestation of the—whatever it was that he and Toshiro shared. Respect, admiration, affection? Or none of the above according to Toshiro.

It had meant nothing? If it meant nothing, than it didn't need to be hidden, did it? Toshiro could damn well deal with the nothing that it meant.

Ichigo walked down the stairs and into the kitchen as casually as he could manage. After years and years spent honing his body language to convey a carefully sculpted image of apathy and irritation, it felt comfortable to strut into the kitchen with a careless frown.

"Hey, hey, what's everyone up to?" His eyes flitted around, taking in the sight of Rukia, Inoue, Yumichika, Matsumoto and Toshiro.

"Good morning Kurosaki-kun," Inoue said, smiling brilliantly at him, before re-engaging in a conversation with Yumichika about God only knew what.

"There you are Ichigo, you lazy bum, what took you so long?" Rukia, of course, no other woman really spoke to him as she did. Her face scowled up at him and Ichigo snarled back at her.

"Don't you go calling me a lazy bum, you stupid girl," he said.

"Now listen here you bastard—uh, Ichigo, what's that?" Ichigo blinked, Rukia had gone straight from anger to quiet confusion. Toshiro, who had been talking with Matsumoto, stilled at Rukia's question. The white-haired shinigami turned his head slightly, to look at Ichigo and Rukia.

"What's what?" Ichigo asked, keeping his tone as guileless as possible. The look Toshiro pointedly did not have on his face was satisfying a very vindictive portion of Ichigo's soul.

"That," Rukia said, poking at the mark on his neck. He batted her hand away.

"Oh this? It's nothing. Absolutely nothing," Ichigo said, drawing the word 'absolutely' out, a musical note of petty revenge. Rukia pursed her lips, disapproval scrawled across her face.

"I see. Well let's all get over to Urahara's then," she said.

"Okay, let's go." And the entire group trouped out. Toshiro and Matsumoto were walking together while Inoue and Yumichika were keeping each other entertained. The minute they were outside the house and every pair was walking slightly apart, Rukia turned on Ichigo.

"Ichigo, you aren't fooling me. Is that a love-bite?"

"Only old people call them that. Us young whippersnappers call them a hickey." Rukia stuck her tongue out at him and Ichigo smirked at her. She always could cheer him up, no matter the situation. He really did love her, in his own way. _And look where that got her._

"A hickey… Okay, but who gave it to you?" He didn't even have to will the smile to fade from his face; it simply fell off of its own accord, like a ripe piece of fruit dropping from a tree.

"None of your business." Rukia blinked at the coldness in Ichigo's voice. Her dark eyes narrowed and then relaxed.

"That's where you're wrong, Ichigo, because I, as the ultimate female intuition in your life, know that—"

"Rukia, please drop it." Rukia, who had been making grand gestures to accompany her words, dropped her hands to her side. She looked unhappy, but she could tell that Ichigo was being serious.

"Fine. But you will tell me." It wasn't a threat, simply an eventuality that even Ichigo had to privately acknowledge. Whatever his life had been before Rukia, he could barely remember. The petite female shinigami had completely turned his life upside down, moved it sideways and then spun it really, really fast. There was a sort of closeness that can only be gained from fighting for someone's life, of being in danger of death, and that closeness was in some ways far more intimate than just regular love. He and Rukia, all of his friends as well but mostly Rukia, had shared more life and death experiences than he knew what to do with. It had changed him, and her, and at this point there wasn't much that they didn't know about each other, except for certain specifics. He would tell Rukia, because he had to tell Rukia, she was as much a part of him as his family, or his zanpokuto.

But not now.

"Maybe later." And that was that.

* * *

Matsumoto Rangiku was used to being underestimated. Men looked at her, and they saw a giant pair of breasts. Women looked at her and dismissed her as a floozy. She was so used to it, she played off of it. What was better than an enemy who thought you were stupid? 

Matsumoto was observant, and not just because she'd been a shinigami for a great deal longer than most of the vice-captains. She had empathy and a keen eye for detail, even if she didn't always choose to exercise them. Hitsugaya was extremely lucky to have her as a second seat; for all that she did no paper work and caused him insane amounts of grief. By the same token, she never said anything if he fell asleep at his desk and had a nightmare, she didn't treat him like a child or like he was delicate. Where others would have been forward with their desire to mother Hitsugaya, she gave him space while giving him a pillar to lean on, should he need it.

Not that her captain needed it frequently. Before the Aizen debacle she could count on one hand the number of times her captain had truly needed her there. After everything that had happened, with Hinamori and the promise of war, he'd begun to lean on her a bit more (Matsumoto had broken a sacred oath to never do paperwork for him, he better appreciate it). So it was no coincidence that Matsumoto saw the emotions that flooded Hitsugaya's face when Ichigo had brazenly walked into the kitchen with a furious bruise on his neck.

It made sense. After all, Hitsugaya wasn't so young, physically, that he would be unaffected by her blatant sexuality. Any normal boy his age would begin blushing furiously and possibly bleeding from the nose at the sight of her bending over to pick up a pencil. With Hitsugaya she was lucky if he did anything more than say, "Don't strain anything, Matsumoto." The only way to get a reaction out of him was to literally bury his head in her assets.

It was a bit disappointing that the first time she got the captain to loosen up wasn't really her doing, it was Ichigo's, but that was okay. In all honesty, she had meant for him to spend some time with Ichigo. Ichigo was probably the closest thing that Hitsugaya would ever find as a peer, both in power, and the odd combination of physical and mental age the two represented. She'd hoped that maybe, finally, the captain would find a friend who could push him, at least a little bit.

_Pushing him into bed? Not exactly what I had in mind._ It also seemed that their budding romance was going to explode rather spectacularly just after what she was sure was a rather eventful birth. Teenage hormones did not for much restraint make, after all. And she was willing to bet money that when her captain cut loose—and god forbid her for thinking about this—he would really cut loose. At least he had good taste; Kurosaki Ichigo was a fine hunk of man. But apparently both of them were equally stupid when it came to relationships, as large a surprise as that wasn't.

_Let's see, Kurosaki-kun is wandering around with a giant "I had sex sign" on his neck, and Hitsugaya-taicho wants to murder him. This means: sometime after I left last night, they got together, probably after Ikakku and Renji-kun left. The ancient recipe of boys+alcoholtrouble. Now if Kurosaki-kun is the one trying to punish Hitsugaya-taicho, it must have been something Hitsugaya-taicho said to him._ She turned to look at her captain, who was walking alongside her. His normally handsome face was blank, so blank he looked less than alive.

_He's upset, quite a bit. Oh Kurosaki-kun, you've dug yourself a rather deep hole._ Well, wasn't this how shinigami life went? The captains went in, made a mess, and then the vice-captains came and cleaned it up. Except for Yachiru, she usually just made more of a mess.

"Truthfully, Orihime-chan, you have a beautiful complexion, what do you use to get your skin so soft and smooth?" Trust Yumichika to be pressing Inoue for beauty tips.

"Well it's a secret, actually, something I make on my own from bean curd, and mud with special bathing salts and a bit of—" Matsumoto decided to tune Inoue out before she became concerned over the girl's mental status. Behind her she could feel Rukia and Kurosaki-kun walking together, and talking in hushed tones.

"Ne, taicho, how are you feeling today?"

"Fine, Matsumoto."

"That's good, then. Because, you know, you're first time drinking can be a bit scary, since it's completely new. Things you've never done before can leave you feeling decidedly unbalanced, and maybe even doubting your actions." Oh boy, somebody was not a happy camper, which only supported Matsumoto's intuitive feelings.

"Matsumoto," the boy genius growled. She held up a hand to his face, making him come up short in surprise. It was not often that Matsumoto dealt with her captain in such a disrespectful manner, she was quite sensitive to his sense of pride. Pride could get in the way, however, and she was not going to let her captain screw up something that could potentially be quite good for him.

"Just let me finish, captain. You can change a lot when you let some of your guard down, but if you refuse to let it stay down, then whatever you may have changed can be crippled." Good, he was thinking about it now.

"I see."

"I'm just glad you had a fun time. Now if you'll excuse me."

Before she could drop back to have a chat with the orange-haired source of her captain's problems, her wrist was grabbed and held in a vice like grip. She looked in surprise at Hitsugaya.

"Don't, Matsumoto."

"But, captain," she started only to have Hitsugaya look deeply into her eyes.

"Please, do not. If it is not meant to be, it is not meant to be." His tone was even, and his face didn't look resigned so much as calmly accepting. But understanding Hitsugaya Toshiro was not about the surface, it was about the words not spoken, and the emotions not shown. Still waters run deep, and with the famed boy genius of the Gotei 13, those waters were very deep. That said; the boy genius was a boy, and one with no experience in the decidedly murky area of romance. It was one thing to master a bankai, and another entirely to deal with the ramifications of sexuality.

Her poor captain had no idea what he was getting himself into.

"If you say so, captain. I'm always here though, if you need to talk." Hitsugaya made a small noise that was neither agreement nor dismissal. Matsumoto smiled and began to whistle; all the while promising that the second her captain's attention was diverted she was going to have a very pointed conversation with a certain shinigami representative.

* * *

By the time the group had reached Urahara's, the tension was fairly palpable. Inoue was glancing anxiously around at everyone, with Rukia and Matsumoto both giving Ichigo decidedly pointed looks, not quite glares but definitely with negative energy in them. Yumichika looked positively putout by all the silly melodrama that was decidedly not beautiful, Toshiro's face was completely etched with his anger, and Ichigo was decidedly antagonistic. 

All in all, there was a great deal of subtext and adverbially backed up emotion. This was in direct opposition to the group that was currently at Urahara's store. Renji and Ikkaku had already worn themselves out sparring in the giant underground room while Jinta shouted abuse at the red-haired shinigami. At the moment, they were lounging around in the front of the store, seeing as how there were rarely any customers. The Bount mod souls were bringing tea in, as Chad and Ishida were already waiting with the two shinigami. No one knew where Urahara and Yoruichi were, although Tessai probably did. The large man wasn't saying anything and had disappeared into the bowels of the store, so the four males were left to their own devices while waiting for the rest of the group to show up.

The first person to step inside the store was Inoue, and the worried expression on her face was enough to tip off each of them that something was bothering her. As the group streamed in it became obvious that something was off, but it wasn't until Ichigo finally entered and closed the door that the reason was revealed. It was at that moment that Ichigo realized that he had potentially done something very, very stupid.

As he entered and the awkward greetings began between the two groups, his hickey was noticed. Now Matsumoto and Yumichika had both seen Ichigo's neck and both of them had kept their mouths shut, in Yumichika's case because he didn't really care. Renji and Ikkaku on the other hand reacted with shock. Because as drunk as they had all been last night, Ikkaku and Renji knew they had left Toshiro and Ichigo alone together. And that they'd taunted Ichigo about being a virgin. And there was a hickey on Ichigo's neck. And they'd left Ichigo and Toshiro alone. Together. Drunk.

As Ichigo watched the train of realization pull into shinigami station, he began to turn a bit red. He couldn't help but glance at Toshiro, and he flinched internally at the face he saw. Toshiro didn't even look angry; his face was completely blank, not even calm or apathetic, blank. The white-haired boy was so emotional that he couldn't even feign his usual attitude of collected tranquility, and had to blank his face.

Ichigo could feel the bottom of his stomach sinking, and a powerful wave of regret swept through him, abolishing the anger he'd been carrying since he'd left his house. He tore his eyes away from Toshiro (he'd only been looking at him for a moment, but it had felt like forever), and came face to face with two very aghast death gods.

For a second there was no action, everyone had their own mental process to evaluate what they were seeing based on what they knew, and then further interpretation of what they could glean from the expressions and reactions of those around them.

"Yo, wassup dudes, Kon-sama is in the house," yelled a small stuffed lion as it slid into the center of the store on its knees, like a tiny plushy rock star. The emotional tension in the room took on an edge of incredulity at the sheer obliviousness of the mod-soul. Rukia casually silenced him with a stomp.

"Hello, hello, everyone, I'm terribly sorry to be so late," Urahara slid in the door, waving a fan at his face that didn't quite cover his enormous shit-eating grin. Yoruichi walked in behind him, rolling her eyes.

"You're never sorry for being late, Kisuke."

"What a harsh thing to say, Yoruichi-san. It's as if you don't respect me." She simply looked at him. "Oh you are so cruel!"

"Good morning Urahara-san," Inoue said cheerfully. There were various other greetings tossed forth from the crowd but for the most part the attention was still on Ichigo and Toshiro, and Ichigo just knew that Toshiro was getting progressively angrier.

"Good morning, Inoue. Now, if everyone is here we can get started. My practice room is only so large, so let's start first with the shinigami practicing bankai, and then we'll do another group after lunch."

Toshiro took that as his cue to leave, with Matsumoto trailing close behind him. Renji and Ikkaku looked at each other, nodded, and grabbed Ichigo by his arms.

"Hey, hey what are you two—" Ichigo started and then yelped as the two dragged him away. Behind him he could hear the discussion start up and he winced, as they would probably all be talking about him and—wait everyone who knew what had happened was going to be downstairs with him…

"Renji, Ikkaku, let go of me," he tried to struggle but the two men simply kept hustling him along, with Yumichika trailing behind them.

"No, Ichigo, we won't." They stopped at the entrance long enough to drag Ichigo's soul form out of his body and then drop their faux bodies. Ichigo finally got free when they pitched him down the hole and he had to flash step to the ground.

"What the hell was that about?" he shouted only to have Renji get right up in his face.

"You are the fucking stupidest person I have ever met," the redhead said vehemently

"Hey, you can't talk to me like that," Ichigo spat back, his voice slightly louder than Renji's.

"Yes, he can, because you are." Ichigo glared at Ikkaku.

"What were you thinking? I thought you were an honorable person, but it appears you're just scum." Ichigo turned back to Renji, and felt his blood run cold. The other man was looking at him with pure disgust etched on his face, and Ichigo's anger ran like ice through his veins.

"You take that back, Renji." Ichigo's voice was low and filled with the threat of violence. Renji was undeterred.

"Or what, you'll taunt me in public like you did Hitsugaya-taicho?" Ichigo's mouth snapped shut and he clammed up.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, Kurosaki-kun, no one likes a liar. It is such ugly behavior," Yumichika said as he landed next to the trio. His hair and clothes were as usually immaculate and his expression was one of vague interest.

"Who the hell do you think you are, screwing with the captain like that?" Ichigo glared at Renji, the air between their eyes was hot with reiatsu and anger. Renji got possessive of people he was around, and apparently Hitsugaya was no exception.

"Renji, get out of my face."

"What's the problem, Ichigo, you upset that your plan to fuck over the captain is—" Ichigo couldn't restrain himself.

"You bastard, I'll kill you—" Reaching for his sword and Renji's hand had already clenched around the hilt of Zabimaru—

"Stop it." Both men froze. Ikkaku and Yumichika (the former was upset at the sudden stopping of the potential brawl, the latter glad that his new haircut wouldn't get ruffled) turned to look at the newest member to join the Shinigami Association for Melodramatics. Matsumoto Rangiku was always a figure to behold, and when she cared to exert it, her spirit power was large enough to cow most anyone.

Needless to say, she was exerting herself quite a bit to make a point on the men in front of her.

"Matsumoto…" Renji said quietly.

"You three go practice. Kurosaki and I are going to have a talk." Renji opened his mouth to disagree but Ikkaku grabbed him by the wrist and silenced him with a look.

"Let's go." Ikkaku and Renji walked off with Yumichika following behind them, barely covering a yawn.

"Rangiku-san…" Ichigo started but Matsumoto just held up her hand, telling him to stop.

"Sit down, Ichigo." Ichigo's legs folded involuntarily at Matsumoto's tone of voice, until he was sitting Indian style with his hands on his knees, Zangetsu still resting on his back. The ground beneath him was rough and somehow the act of sitting made him feel more relaxed than he'd been since the morning. The light-haired woman was looking at him with eyes that were full of steel, but kind all the same. The two looked at each other, their eyes meeting until Ichigo looked away. He didn't want to, but something about the way she looked at him was, in all honesty, reminiscent of his mother. At once she was stern and reminded him of the wrongness of his actions, but there was no denying that she was not here to attack him, she was waiting for him to talk to her. But Ichigo couldn't just reveal his heart like that; it wasn't in his personality, even if he knew that it was best, that talking with Matsumoto of all people was without a doubt the sure way to resolve his trouble with Toshiro.

"You wanted to talk to me?" He couldn't think of another way to start. If anything Matsumoto's eyes softened, and it occurred to him that Toshiro was probably just as difficult to get to open up.

"I don't know; do you have something to say?" He grimaced; she wasn't going to baby him apparently, which was just as well. His resolve had to be strong in all regards, in combat and in his life. If it weakened at any point, he would lose his edge, his power, and then everything he loved and held dear.

"He's really angry, isn't he?" Matsumoto sighed, but Ichigo needed another moment to gather his thoughts and feelings.

"You did do something rather cruel, Ichigo." Now it was Ichigo's turn to sigh. He wished he regretted his actions more, but instead he just felt tired. He simply wished he had never taunted Toshiro in that way, not because he regretted his reaction, but because it was not the action of the sort of person he wanted to be.

"It was just supposed to be… I don't know." It hadn't been to humiliate Toshiro, except it had been. He'd just wanted to show Toshiro that it did mean something, because if it didn't than the diminutive captain shouldn't have cared.

"The kind of person Hitsugaya-taicho is, you knew how he'd react." She looked up. "Renji said some mean things to you, but that's how your behavior looks, cruelty without reason."

"Che. Fuck Renji." The red-haired bastard had no right speaking to him like that; he didn't know anything of what had happened. Matsumoto knelt in front of him and placed a hand on his right-hand, which was balled up in a fist on his knee.

"What happened, Ichigo?"

"He said it didn't mean anything," Ichigo said in a low voice. Matsumoto looked confused.

"What?"

"He said that it didn't mean anything, that if I 'wanted it to happen again,' it would have to." Pain takes time to fade, and Ichigo could still feel the pain of Toshiro's rejection acutely. Echoes of that pain were in his voice now as he talked to Matsumoto, and the female shinigami's eyes softened as she looked at the boy before her.

"Ichigo." Matsumoto said his name softly, like she was trying to put a balm on his emotional pain.

"Who is he to say something like that? It's not my problem if it meant nothing to him, but it did mean something to me." Ichigo stopped talking, he'd said a great deal more than he'd meant to, even if he had been trying to talk about the entire affair.

"Oh, Kurosaki-kun." she squeezed the hand on his knee. "Can't you see? You're both scared."

"Scared?" He knew that he was scared, but, Toshiro clearly wasn't—_Oh God, I really am a fucking idiot, aren't I?_

"Don't worry, it's normal. Most powerful men I know come undone at the first feelings of love." There was that damn L-word. It made him want to hit something.

"It's not love according to Toshiro."

"Well it wouldn't be, right off the bat. But it could be."

"I don't even know if I want to anymore." Ichigo almost winced, his voice sounded petulant and childish even to his ears. Thankfully Matsumoto didn't call him on it directly.

"Now you truly are being stupid. The two of you are good for each other, you should give it a try." Now she was smiling at him and he felt his cheeks grow warm.

"I don't think he wants anything to do with me, and I don't—"

"Oh, shut up, Kurosaki-kun. Even if you can't let go of your pride, you owe Hitsugaya-taicho an apology."

"I suppose you're right."

"Now, let me do something about this," she reached for the love-bite that was causing so much controversy and Ichigo slapped a hand over it.

"No. I will go apologize."

"Ichigo," she tried to begin only to be cut off by him.

"I'll apologize, and I'll ask for him to forgive me, but I won't pretend that it never happened." Matsumoto's mouth worked as she struggled for a response.

"You don't have to, Kurosaki." Both shinigami leapt into the air at the sound of Hitsugaya Toshiro's voice.

"Captain!" Matsumoto shrieked. Ichigo's eyes widened as Toshiro stepped out from behind his vice-captain (had he really been so oblivious he'd missed the captain standing behind the vice-captain?).

"Matsumoto, would you give us a moment please?" Toshiro's voice was even, but his brilliant eyes were flaring with emotion.

"Of course, captain." She turned to leave and winked at Ichigo while flashing the thumbs up sign. Ichigo flushed and Toshiro closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in his usual expression of irritation.

"Matsumoto…"

"Leaving, captain." The buxom woman practically danced away, confident of what was going to happen behind her. Ichigo wished he shared that confidence.

Toshiro looked at him, and he looked at Toshiro. The young looking shinigami was stunning, when he was in the grip of strong emotion, his eyes were even more brilliant than usual, almost glowing with an internal brilliance. His posture was straight-backed and elegant, and Ichigo could imagine all too well how poised his body looked under those robes, how Toshiro's musculature was developed but not overly so, maintaining a slender grace that would not be out of place on a dancer or acrobat. He had a child's flexibility, despite despising his perceived status as a child. And his hair… His hair was as striking as Ichigo's own, except Toshiro's was the purest white, like snow lit by moonlight.

"You had something you wanted to say, Kurosaki." Ichigo blinked out of his reverie.

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough." So that meant he'd heard all of it. Ichigo opened his mouth, and realized he really didn't have anything else to say. There was no point in explaining himself to the captain, Toshiro had probably already made up his mind, and he knew Ichigo's reason for being angry. There was only one thing he could do, and he could not back away. His resolve was set.

"I'm sorry, Toshiro." He looked directly at the other boy as he said the words; his gaze unwavering even though his stomach felt like it was stuffed with hot rocks that were pushing up into his chest, making his hearth and throat feel tight.

"I'm sorry too, Kurosaki." Ichigo blinked. That was not what he expected. What's more, Toshiro's face showed genuine regret, and those eyes, those brilliant glowing eyes…

Ichigo walked over to Toshiro, standing close enough so that they were practically touching.

"What now?" Ichigo asked. He hadn't expected Toshiro to apologize as well, to have Toshiro regret making him feel this way. It made Ichigo feel better, and it gave him a wild hope that maybe, just maybe… He liked Toshiro, a lot. The other boy could be a jerk, hide bound and anal retentive, but he was a strong person, full of conviction and a sense of right. It also helped that Ichigo knew he was a hot little sexpot when you got a few drinks in him, and that his dry sense of humor was hilariously sarcastic.

"I'm not sure." Once again, the two shared a period of silence, and this time, it was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. There was a tension between them, both because they both had just resolved a potentially epic conflict (and it had been damn quick, not be sexist but Ichigo was very glad they were both guys, although that was kinda why they were in the whole mess in the first place), and were about to decide whether or not they would go forward with whatever it was they shared. And they were standing so close together that Ichigo could almost feel the heat radiating off the other boy, and smell his scent (light and fresh like snow). Then Ichigo smirked.

He always did make shit way too complicated.

"Well… We could make out." Toshiro's reaction was priceless. Shock covered his face with all the speed and subtlety of a dropped bomb.

"What? Kurosaki we just—you didn't—our fight—teaching bankai…" Ichigo didn't give Toshiro a chance to keep spluttering and darted in to press his lips to the other boy's. Toshiro's mouth was as delicious and wonderful as he remembered, and Ichigo poured every bit of himself he could into the kiss. Words didn't always come easily for him, despite his best efforts and his admiration of Shakespeare. So he tried to put all he felt, all his sincerity and emotion, into his kissing.

When his lips broke from Toshiro's he felt empty, even though he was clutching Toshiro to him and he could feel the tight strength of the body against his own.

"Kurosaki, you're incredible," Toshiro breathed.

"I know," Ichigo responded, grinning wildly. Toshiro frowned at him.

"I take it back, you're a moron." Ichigo didn't keep the look of dismay from crossing his face, which was apparently what Toshiro wanted, as the shorter death god smirked at him. And then drew his head down for another really fucking fantastic kiss.

Ichigo decided that he could definitely get used to this.

* * *

"My, my, is it me or is it getting hot in here," Urahara enthusiastically fanned himself. He, Yoruichi, Chad, Ishida, Inoue, Tessai, Jinta, Ururu and Soifon, who had come to liaison with them on behalf of Soul Society, were all watching a screen set into a table that displayed a rather enthusiastic pair of smooching shinigami. 

"That's Hitsugaya-taicho," Soifon commented, in disbelief. "And that's Kurosaki Ichigo."

"They—they look happy together, don't they," Inoue said softly, with a small smile. Ishida adjusted his glasses and looked away.

"They do, but it's no reason to gape."

"There's plenty reason to stare, my dear Quincy, we must make sure that they are both happy, as Orihime-chan so eloquently put it," Urahara said, fanning his face to hide his lecherous grin, although not very well.

"I think I'd be pretty happy too if someone was kissing me like that," Yoruichi said, as Hitsugaya wrapped his legs around Ichigo's waist, gradually making him sit down as the force of Toshiro's kiss pushed Ichigo backwards until the two of them were necking on the ground. Hitsugaya straddled Ichigo, grinding down with his pelvis and making Ichigo practically writhe on the ground below him. The audio of the scene consisted of pants, gasps, groans, moans and not a few: "God," "Fuck," and "Fuck God." The two of them began writhing on the ground together, not caring about the rocks and dust that they were covering themselves with, blind to the entire world.

Soifon coughed and tried not to look at Yoruichi.

* * *

End Note: So please, tell me what you liked, whether the sexy scene was at all hot, whether people were in character, was it funny, or even more, wanna give me some ideas for the next IchiHitsu story? I'll certainly give you credit for any plot-bunnies you may give me. ALSO, I've seen that nearly 300 people have "read" the second chapter. I know that only refers to opening the page, but I have a grand total of 4 reviews so far for that many views. I'll be honest, the reviews really do help me get out more stories. If you want to see more, say so!  



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